


Break the lock if it don't fit!

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Break Up (sort of), M/M, Modern AU, Twisted Humour, weird relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur have a weird relationship. Their friends should get used to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break the lock if it don't fit!

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Kiss with a fist" by Florence+The machine.  
> The song isn't really about abuse, it's about a mutually toxic relationship, where each tries to push the other to their extremities. It's a twisted thing I couldn't get out of my head.
> 
> That being said, I think an abusive relationship is one of those terrible things that will guarantee the abuser a special place in hell.

"You really don't think you're going over board mate?" Gwaine asks, watching his best friend haul the bed clothes out of the door into the back yard. "Nope." Merlin replies, dumping the last thing, the apple blossom quilt Morgana had given them last year, onto the ground. Of course he doesn't. Merlin's the nicest guy he knows, but when Merlin gets mad... well, Gwaine's pretty sure there's no one who goes more over the top than he does. Will swears that he still has marks from reception, when he tied Merlin's infernally old teddy bear to the even more infernally old oak in the playground. 

Merlin rounds up all the stuff to the shape of a pyre, and glares at Gwaine. "Well don't just stand there!" He snaps. "Go get the petrol!" Gwaine groans as he heads over to the blue ford parked on the side of the road. Merlin's a bit irascible today. He wonders what the hell went off this time.

In general, Merlin's not really a nasty guy. He's sweet and he's kind and good and mostly angelic. People tend to peg him as one of those dear lambs who couldn't hurt a fly. Right. But really, he's a dear, and if he weren't straight, Gwaine would have married Merlin and been done with it.

On the other hand, perhaps not. 

There's one noteable exception to Merlin's placidity though. The name, Arthur Pendragon. Or as Merlin liked to call him, "The Prat". Personally Gwaine thought he was more princess than prat. He was one of those posh notch city boys with a posh notch old man and a posh notch fine bird of a sister. The kind of boy who was classically handsome and inherently old fashioned, with arrogance and his penchant for being the knight in shining armour. Essentially a good man, in a traditional sort of way. Only the polar opposite of the wild, bright unconventional Merlin. 

And incidentally, Merlin's boyfriend.

There was no one who could drive Merlin up the wall like that, and they probably fought with each other more than they slept with each other. Or not. Wasn't Arthur thinking of proposing?

He sighs as he gets the black can out of the car, looking over his shoulder to see Merlin dancing around the bedding like one of the mad witches from Macbeth. 

When Merlin finally strikes his match on to the petrol soaked linen, the sheets that Merlin and Arthur had laid on only days ago, go up in a whooshing gust of flames. It's almost like Bonfire night, minus the fireworks and the Guy. Gwaine imagines that it would be in his better judgement to mention it. At this point Merlin may just as well appear with a blond effigy to throw into the fire. The orange glow of the not- bonfire contrasts rather fascinatingly with the pink dusky sky. And then Merlin turns to him, with a lopsided smile.

"Well, call Percy and Lance. Let's meet up at the Rising Sun!"

 

"What happened this time, Arthur?" Morgana stares down her brother, who looks rather harried sitting on the couch. Sticking pins into a voodoo doll that looks disconcertingly like his boyfriend. She's been worn to the teeth with Arthur and the shenanigans he gets into with Merlin, who incidentally, was a sweet boy to everyone (except Arthur). They were constantly at each other's throats, perpetually biting, kicking, slapping. She wonders what he's done this time. or what Merlin's done. The last time, he'd turned up at the door with the most spectacular black eye she's seen. She'd been all for deep frying Merlin in herbal oil for it, when Arthur tells her that Merlin's eye is even blacker. At which she cuffed him on the head for it. 

That was a few months back. And now, here he was again. With more irritation in his eyes than grief. 

"I was going to propose."

"I know."

"And we fought again."

"I know." 

"He's just so... ugh! He gets mad all the flippin' time, the idiot! It's kind of annoying."

Morgana purses her lips. It's rather easy for her. Leon was a sweet and timid man, who practically let her have her way in everything. From curtains to childbearing. On the other hand, there's no dom in her brother's love life. Merlin is as stubborn, as opinionated and as dominant as Arthur, though people tend to think the inverse of him. He's as willing to assert his head over their life as Arthur is, and them being so different... ah well. 

The thing was that Merlin never apologized, and Arthur never did either. Maybe...

"So you've broken up."

"Sort of."

Morgana rolled her eyes. People don't  _sort of_ break up. Either they do or they don't. (with the notable exception of Merlin and Arthur.) When was ths drama going to end?

But Arthur was already getting up.

"Well." He says, "Merlin's probably getting plastered with Gwaine somewhere. Let me just get into something nice, and get rid of this thing, and we'll go off to that Night Club you keep going on about."

"Planning on bringing a random stranger home tonight?"

Arthur looks at her as if she's stuffed a live snake in her mouth.

"Don't be ridiculous, Morgana. I have a boyfriend."

 

"Do you plan on getting so utterly hammered that we'll have to carry you home?" "I'm not that drunk."

It's not so late into the night, but Merlin is almost drunk. As is always the case after they fight. Gwaine, Percy and Lance are quite used to the routine by now. Even though (sometimes. Rarely. Once in a while) they can't help but think that the two of them would be better off without the other. The last time Lance had suggested that, Merlin had punched him in the mouth (though admittedly he was stone dead drunk. Still, he did have quite the left hook.)

"Whatever, I want to dance." Definitely drunk then. Merlin does not dance sober. Unless it's slow waltzing. With Arthur. In their bedroom. 

"It's a pub Merls! You don't dance here. You nurse your pint and brood."

"But I want to dance."

"No." 

"But-"

"No."

Merlin slumps back, moodily. Percy snickers, as Lance gives him a condescending look. "Look Merls, you should be getting home, right? I'll drop you off." Merlin smiles a bit loopily.

"No."

"Yes."

He hoots with laughter. "I got you to say yes!" He titters. "So I can go dance. But first, I think..." he stands up, and moves ahead towards the loo. Gwaine follows at a respectable distance, just to make sure he doesn't run into trouble... quite literally. 

Ah. Well it seems he has.

"'Ello mate." There's a mousy haired weasel staring at Merlin, looking like he'd rather eat him up. "'Ello yourself." says Merlin. "You alone?"

The man shrugs. "Of sorts. Fancy changing that?" He asks suggestively.

Merlin gives him a look.

"Nah. Got a man." The stranger raises his eyebrows, and at some point, notices Gwaine. Gwaine smirks. What else was new?

"In fact," says Merlin, raising an invisible pint in the stranger's face. "He's going to propose once we get back on track." And promptly passes out.

 

_"Merlin?"_

_"Not now, prat. I'm making music."_

_"It's a bit important. And really-"_

_"I said Not Now, Prat!"_

_"So when will you be amenable to listen for a second?"_

_"Shut up!"_

 

"There you go, Merls," said Gwaine, laying him on the half stripped bed. Merlin snuffles as he hugs the pillow and moans, while Lance procures the pills and the water for tomorrow, when Merlin wakes up with a raging hangover. It's protocol for break up nights, and he can't help but feel sorry for Merlin. (On the other hand, he probably started it this time.)

"I worry about him." Lance says, getting into the car. Percy strikes up the ignition. "Don't we all?"

"Is this relationship entirely good for him? I think they should just let go."

Percy laughs.

"Merlin, let go of Arthur? Not bloody likely, mate."

"But-"

"It's not usual, I know. And they fight too much. But hey, you know what she said."

"What?"

"A kiss with a fist is better than none."

 

"Merrlin..." Arthur whispers from the couch. He's only tired, not drunk, thank goodness. Arthur with a hangover was rarely a good thing. And she was babysitting Mordred for Morgause tomorrow. "Merlin's not here, Arthur."

"I'm proposing tomorrow."

"You broke up with him."

"I think he's going to say yes.

 

In the dark too empty room on the half stripped bed, Merlin humps into the mattress and moans.

"Yes."

 

"I was wondering when you'd drag your sorry ass up here  _Mer_ lin." 

"Shut it, Pratdragon."

"Why?"

"Because I said so. That's why."

"Lance asked me to talk to you."

"Well you are. Clotpole."

"I don't see what you're still mad at. You burned  the bedding.  _And_ Morgana's quilt."

"You threw a plate at me."

"You slapped me first."

"You wrecked my music."

"I did  _not!"_

"You wanted to tell me something."

"Yes."

"Well what are you waiting for? Spit it out, now!"

"Okay."

"Well?"

Arthur gets down on one knee.

"Marry me, Merlin."

Silence. Utter silence.

And then.

"You fuckin' bastard!"

"You'll find that I'm perfectly legitimate." Arthur smirks, still on his knee. "Do I get an answer?"

Merlin punches him. And hauls him up by the tie.

"Do you need one?" He asks softly, pulling Arthur's mouth into a bruising kiss. Teeth, tongue, lips, jaws, hands, hair, everything.Even their kisses were more violent than passionate. 

Hell, who cared? It was as good as a yes.

 

Arthur snuffled as Merlin curled up tighter against him. "You knew I was going to propose." Merlin snorts. "'course I did." "And you still picked a fight." "Symbolic. We fought when we met, remember?"

"Sometimes I think you enjoy this." 

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Our friends think we're odd."

"Us as an entity doesn't really fit into stable relationship groups, does it?"

"This isn't stable really. Do you want kids?"

"I shudder to think how they'll be, raised with us, like this."

"Do you, now?" 

"Yeah."

Merlin pauses and looks up at Arthur. There's a glint in his eyes.

"I do love you. You know that, right?"

"Right."

"I think we're weird."

"I think we're us."

"You know what else I think?"

"What?"

"I think you love me."

I don't disagree. Now, what say you to a church wedding?"

"Absolutely not! A marriage is a commune with nature! Out of doors wedding!"

Arthur laughs, sweetly, kissing Merlin as he glares in his face.

They would also argue. (And bite. And kick. And scream.)

They would also love. 

 


End file.
